I have a little story about Earl Stauffer, my friend who passed away last week. It was a Fall Saturday morning, probably in 1970. Earl had to drive his mom to Chestertown for the weekend and I rode along with them. We dropped her off and headed back home. If you know anything about the Eastern Shore you know the quickest way to get back to Towson is crossing the Bay Bridge, the same way we got there. Somehow, Earl got on I-95 in Newark, De.. We took a wrong turn somewhere, probably several of them. He was driving his mom's Mercury Marquis that had a 454 under the hood. So Earl said to me, I wonder how fast this thing can go? I don't remember whether I answered or not but all of a sudden we're doing 110mph. Back in 1970, I-95 was in it's infancy and traffic was rare and very light all the time. He eventually backed off on the speed and we made it home safely. The following Monday, as soon as I walked in the door from school, the phone rings and it's Earl telling me he's grounded for a month. I asked why and he said, remember when we hit 110 on Saturday? That's not something you forget very quickly and I said, yes. He said, "We passed a friend of my mom's and she recognized the car." True story.
